*Chapter 29: Didn't I Tell You I Can't Use a Gun?*

On the streets of Gotham during the evening, a light drizzle washed over the hazy neon lights. On a rainy night like this, most folks would probably be home early.

But Cody wasn't home, because it was nine o'clock at night, and his shift wasn't over yet. Right now, he was really worried about whether he'd even get off work on time.

"Bang! Bang!"

Santos's face was twisted. He was clutching a handgun, hunkered down behind a flipped-over round dining table with Bridgette. The gentle, polite expressions they usually had were completely gone, replaced by bulging veins on their foreheads, making them look pretty scary.

"Bastards! You dare make trouble at the Red Dragon Restaurant! You're dead!"

Towards the restaurant entrance, a group of burly, gun-toting guys were in a shootout with the restaurant's staff. Clearly, they hadn't come in through the reservation system.

A gun-wielding thug, wearing a gentleman's fedora and a tuxedo, yelled back loudly at Santos from the doorway: "Cobblepot sends his regards! This is what you get for stealing business from the Iceberg Lounge!"

Gunfire, curses, and crazy laughter mixed and tangled together for a moment, the hazy atmosphere of the rainy night instantly ripped and torn apart by the frantic noise. Cody, huddled in the corner, watched as the bullet-pocked wooden surface of the dining table peeled away to reveal the solid bulletproof steel plate underneath. He relaxed and pulled a Pocky stick from his cigarette pack.

Holy moly, no wonder the tables in this place are heavy as hell, needing a few people to lift them. Turns out they were prepared for this...

Ever since he got to Gotham, he hadn't had a single peaceful day. If it wasn't a robbery, it was a shooting. At the very least, it was a theft. The most peaceful day he had was performing an exorcism on a haunted car that had nine 'soul rings' floating around it.

"This goddamn city. People who live here are truly blessed. They've got it made for life."

This restaurant he worked at was also top-tier, always getting these ridiculous customers showing up. Last time it was Two-Face, Harvey Dent; this time, it's Cobblepot's goons.

Similar to Mr. Freeze, Oswald Chesterfield Cobblepot's full name isn't as widely known as his identity as the supervillain, the Penguin. The Cobblepot family, one of the founding families of Gotham, hadn't completely fallen from grace when the Penguin was a kid, and his father still had some wealth. But Oswald was born fat and short with a long, hooked nose, and he was often bullied and isolated by his classmates because of it.

His father later died from pneumonia brought on by getting caught in the rain, and his mother practically went completely insane. The Cobblepot family fell apart, and he eventually became a notorious Gotham crime boss, transforming himself through self-education from a down-on-his-luck heir into an intelligent supervillain. But he also suffers from clinical levels of inferiority complex and paranoia, and his usual style is a mix of forced elegance and angry outbursts.

The Iceberg Lounge, his property, looks like a popular, normal restaurant on the surface, but in reality, it handles illegal financial activities like money laundering, as well as all sorts of business between Cobblepot and other mobsters.

It's pretty clear that when his goons said "competing for business with the Iceberg Lounge," they probably weren't talking about customer traffic.

Normally, the Penguin would never dare to just show up and cause a scene like this. But Batman's recent crackdown on the Falcone family has been significant. Wayne Enterprises took advantage of the situation, seizing control and cleaning out a lot of the gray-area industries that were previously under Falcone's thumb. This forced the Falcones to turn around and aggressively muscle in on Cobblepot's illicit operations – something the Falcone gang had done plenty of times before.

Obviously, the Penguin would usually just suck it up, but right now, he's getting pretty impatient with the Falcone gang not being quite as authoritative anymore.

Cody sighed amidst the flying bullets. He took a bite of the Pocky stick in his mouth and checked the cross pendant he wore under his clothes – its durability was still at nine uses, meaning he was luckily not in mortal danger.

He looked at the light rain outside, even getting distracted for a moment. The rainy night view in Gotham had a sort of cyberpunk, psychedelic feel to it, even though it also came with a bone-chilling cold. But he personally really liked watching a beautiful rainy scene like that from indoors.

He really wanted to go home right then, get himself a "fat otaku happy meal" (comfort food), and continue binge-watching shows with that view. But the reality was, he had no idea if he'd be able to leave the restaurant on time today.

Sigh, that's just how it is being a working stiff. You never really have a choice.

Manager saw Cody cowering behind the table and thought he was scared stiff, so he yelled in his direction: "Cody! Stop being a damn idiot! Shoot!"

"I damn well can't!"

Cody wasn't sure if it was just his imagination, but Manager next to him seemed to freeze for a second the moment he shouted that out.

"What the hell are you talking about?" he widened his eyes. "This is Gotham!"

"Can't there be a few people in Gotham who can't shoot?" Cody protested. "The Waynes didn't even carry guns when they went out back in the day!"

"You damn well should move to Star City and settle down ASAP!" Manager yelled through clenched teeth. "Safety off! Pull the trigger!"

Cody fumbled around clumsily following his instructions for a while and finally figured out his Beretta. Manager watched him hesitate, aim for a long time, and then put the gun down again.

"I might hit something in the store."

"Don't you damn well worry about that!" Manager had been getting anxious watching from the side. Seeing this guy put the gun down again, his blood pressure shot up instantly, and he roared at him, "These damn tables and chairs are for getting shot at in crucial moments! Shoot 'em!"

"You said it!"

Cody immediately aimed across the room and pulled the trigger. Bang! The shot hit the chandelier directly overhead.

"Crash—"

A series of shattering sounds rang out, and the huge crystal chandelier immediately crashed to the floor, scattering like water splashes, exploding into tiny, glittering jewel fragments.

"No—"

It might be rude to say this, but at this moment, Manager's voice really sounded exactly like someone Cody remembered from a long time ago.

He even felt like he could hear familiar music in his ears.

Dancing Funeral Coffin~~

"Cody!"

Manager's roar suddenly cut through, snapping him back from his daze.

"Do you have any idea how expensive that damn chandelier was—"

"I was clearly aiming for the table!"

"You damn well aimed at..."

Manager wasn't initially that angry, but hearing Cody's ridiculous answer, he felt another pang in his chest.

At this point, the room, which wasn't particularly well-lit to begin with, lost the main light source from the large chandelier and became even darker. Even the hazy streetlights outside and the thin moonlight through the clouds overshadowed the light in this corner.

In the darkness, Cobblepot's goons, hearing the news about their leader (Manager) being down, exchanged glances for a moment.

"Did their boss just go down?"

"Looks like it. So, are we still fighting?"

---